


Muddy Heels

by pjhaynie



Category: Fifty Shades of Grey (2015), Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types, Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Drama & Romance, Erotica, F/M, Psychological Drama, Romance, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5869720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjhaynie/pseuds/pjhaynie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You probably won’t like me; you may find me degrading. </p><p>You probably won’t like him either; he likes the degraded. </p><p>My story is like the bloody t-bone ripped violently from a wild beast, now sitting auspiciously by a carnivorous fire:</p><p>Blunt, raw, and tantalizing. </p><p>It starts the night I catch his luring needy eyes to the day I put it all on the line to chase a ridiculous and childish daydream. </p><p>Though I feel him, hear him, and want him, I can’t claw my way deep enough into the web of his psyche to find the subtle secret he holds. And for one simple reason: </p><p>I don’t know who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muddy Heels

 

I remember well the deafening music blaring in my ears and the tingles of alcoholic rapture starting to spread across my limbs as I fluttered my most fantastical bedroom eyes to the man beside me at the bar. From the corner of my eye, I could see the front of the room crowded with drooling men, waving their money in the air as they reached desperately across the stage to the object of their obsessions. Their efforts were soon thwarted as the girls made their way towards the political gold mine standing uncomfortably at the back of the room.

I coughed as the husky man beside me released another puff of his cigarette, moaning quietly with the deep and sensual beat of the hip-hop music.

"Are we working a few more shots here, baby, or have you had enough?" My flirting skills needed work but it was only my second week so acting like an idiot was part of the territory.

He huffed. "Depends. How much you gunnin' for tonight? I haven't gotten paid yet, sweetheart."

"I may be able to work in a Friday night discount.” I winked. “Just for you. It's better than getting tangled up in that mess over there."

I glanced over to see the politician unsuccessfully trying to fend off several of my very aggressive colleagues. He looked completely lost - it was fantastically entertaining.

He had come sauntering through the doors just minutes before in his slacks, shiny cuff links, and very expensive watch. His eyes scanned the room cautiously through the thick cloud of smoke, as though hoping to find some essence of familiarity. His expensive jewelry was in odd contrast to the worn wooden floors and neon lights flickering off his pretty face. I recognized him even in the darkness - a local political up-and-comer. I couldn’t remember his name but politicians were certainly not an unusual sight in this particular locale. Celebrities were delicacies on our menu; I knew the girls were going to be having sissy fights in no time.

I had no interest in getting my hair yanked and my reputation dragged through the dirt so I kept my distance - opting instead to grab a shot or two at the bar with one of the regulars while the other girls closed in on their rare prey.

Mia would get him - I was certain of that. I wasn’t even sure why the other girls tried. But unfortunately, Lacy got there first, flirting shamelessly while I laughed raucously at her from the bar. She looked so determined while he looked so goddamn awkward, hovering annoyed near another guy I'd seen before a few times. Mike was his name, I think. Poor Mike seemed to be having a hard time getting anyone's attention with his friend drawing strippers like a cash magnet.

"Some guys get all the luck," the pudgy man huffed.

I turned back to him flashing a charming smile, placed my hand on his, and caressed his fingers. "I'm here for you, baby, don't worry about him."

“You want another?”

I shrugged. “Whatever you want, baby.”

He raised his finger to the bartender and another shot glass of gleaming clear fluid slid in front of me.

Just then, the sound of shattering glass echoed across the room. All eyes were on Mia and Lacy duking it out over the Money Man. I turned just in time to see Mia smack Lacy in the face and push her over one of the bar tables, scattering a few glasses in her wake. Lacy was back on her feet in moments, grabbing Mia's hair and dragging her away screaming, unwittingly opening up a small wedge of space next to Richy Rich, the Political Hopeful. I chuckled as Candy ditched one of her regulars to dive in for her chance on the payroll - bad move; the regular was pissed and wasted no time telling the politician stay the hell away from his girl. The already flustered politician stood his ground and took a couple of blows to the face before staggering out of the crowd towards the door. I lost sight of him as the tables turned on Mia and Lacy - Lacy found herself being dragged to the dressing room, Mia's arm hooked around her throat. I knew that was the last time I'd see her.

_Mia's the Mamma Goose of the club - you don't fuck with her unless you want to get flattened or fired._

The chaos began to calm as Randy barged in with his thugs, throwing out Candy's regular and giving the girls his special recipe of ‘what for’. I sighed and moved to return to my sales pitch when my eye caught sight of the politician over by the door. He seemed to be caught up in an argument with Mike, but his eyes had found mine through a small break in the crowd. I knew that look. I immediately turned away and glowered.

_Please don't come over here; please don't come over here..._

A man approached to my left.

_Please don't be the politician; please don't be the politician..._

"Scotch and soda and a glass of ice for my face," said the polished voice.

 _Damnit._ The bartender gave him a dishcloth along with his order. He smoothly wrapped up the ice and placed it painstakingly upon his swollen eye. I stared straight ahead, my mind racing to find a way to bag the dickhead patron to my right before this idiot could get a chance to talk to me.

"Bit of a dangerous place here, isn't it? How do you survive?"

 _Oh God, he’s as vanilla as they come._ I wasn't in the mood to chase the night's Golden Trophy so I responded in the most patronizing manner I had the balls to concoct. "If it’s too much for you, sweetie, the door is over there." I cocked one eyebrow and sucked on a slice of lime. "Anyways, I might ask the same of you and the crowd you run with."

He turned to me. "You know who I am?"

I raised my head and scowled. "Everyone knows who you are. Why do you think the vultures descended?"

He laughed. "So that doesn't happen to everyone, does it?"

 _God he's dense._ I rolled my eyes and stared down into my shot glass, wishing it could magically replicate into five or six more.

"So what exactly are you doing way over here?" He cocked his head to the side. "You don't like me?"

"We all have rules." I tipped back the shot. "’Never entertain a douchebag politician’ is my first one."

His face fell and his jaw set. "I can see why my colleagues don't come to this particular establishment often."

"You don't look like you get out much at all, Sugar Daddy. Is this your first time playing with girls who don't wear pencil skirts and tennis bracelets?"

"Well, it certainly will be my last." He gulped the rest of his drink and threw some cash on the counter, drumming his hands impatiently as he waited for the bartender to make change.

"Okay, sweetheart, you goin’ with him or me?” said the husky voice to my right. “If that body is as sharp as your tongue, I can spare $15 for a lap dance."

I grimaced. What cheap bullshit - I'd never been desperate enough to dance for so little. And I certainly wasn’t about to start. I suddenly didn't want to be there at all. I scoffed at his offer, rearing for my escape. He stood before I could push away from the bar.

"Come on, baby." He leaned into my ear. "I'll throw in an extra fiver if you show me your pussy."

I shouldn’t have been insulted. I shouldn’t have even been fazed; we got shitty low-ball offers and pussy peek-a-boo requests all the time. But something was off with me, so instead of smiling and flirting my way into a higher bid, I jumped to make a hasty exit. But before I could so much as pull my ass off the bar stool, the dickhead had me by the arm. “Not so fast, sweetheart. I’ve got something special no other guy can offer.” He dipped his other hand into his pants.

Before I could rip my arm from his grasp, the politician was at my side, shoving him against the bar counter.

"She said no, asshole, leave her alone."

I turned on the politician like a charging bull. "Back off," I seethed, wedging myself between the two of them and pushing him back like a lame-ass peewee football referee. "I don't need you standing up for me like one of your cheap escorts."

He stepped backwards in surprise. I turned back to the dickhead. "$20, no pussy, and keep your goddamn hands to yourself."

He nodded with a sick smile.

"No, fuck that," the politician cried defensively. I could barely make out the look of derision on his face amidst the smog and glaring lights. "You don't have to do that. I'll pay you $500 to get out of here and go somewhere nice with me."

Dickhead fronted at the counter-offer but he couldn't see the rage exploding across my face. "I'm not a whore, fucker.” I gave him my most menacing glare. “The hustlers that sell-out to you and your bankrolling friends hang out on the Strip." I turned to back to the dickhead. "Let's go. There's a private room over by the stage."

I grabbed his hand and stormed off. I chanced a glance backwards, delighting in the look of utter insult and failure on the face of Mr. Crystal-Cuffs. I’d always wanted to leave a man speechless.

 

_I sigh with a smile as the sullen politician's face, the heavy beat, and the shining lights fade from my imagination and the reality of the crowded, arid, white-walled airport comes disappointingly back into view. People are hustling and bustling left and right with all the energy of the strip club and not a hint of the pizzazz. What am I doing here? I miss dancing already: the smooth movements, the adrenaline pulsating through my veins, the hot and horny clientele shouting at me over the bumping dance mix. Everywhere else in the world leaves a lot to be desired._

_I clutch my leather satchel with a tension that turns my knuckles white; and I haven't even gotten to my gate yet. My anxiety continues to be eclipsed by every well-toned, brown-haired man that enters my peripheral vision - as if I'm watching the final results of the power ball tease their way into place._

_The smell of cinnamon rolls and Mexican food is delightful enough when the scotch-infused breath of the drunken man next to me isn’t abusing my senses. Every few minutes he burps loudly without reservation, then takes another gulp from his “coffee” cup. If there were any other place to sit, I wouldn’t hesitate to offer him the entire bench – he could certainly use the space. But as it is, I’m stuck here, my fingers sweaty and twitching while my eyes dart from person to person hoping that this ridiculous daydream I’m chasing isn’t as elusive as it seems._

_He could’ve picked any airport. Hell, I’d have gone outside of Vegas if he’d asked me to. Nevertheless, here I am in this dingy, run-down traveler’s mecca, daydreaming about lame interpersonal conquests, and making every man who walks by me uncomfortable with my probing stare._

_For what God-awful reason am I sweating in this suffocating airport, scrutinizing traveling businessmen when I could be dancing my ass off in a drunken state of euphoria? I suppose you'd like to know?_

_Sigh. Okay, but get ready. It's a long story and I guarantee you’ll hate me when it's done._


End file.
